


Happy Birthday, love

by carterdiaries (tragicallywicked)



Series: A Thousand Dates [6]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Fluff, F/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23508040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tragicallywicked/pseuds/carterdiaries
Summary: It's Peggy's birthday and she's having the sweetest time with her time-traveler lover.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Series: A Thousand Dates [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/205667
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Happy Birthday, love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missunionjack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missunionjack/gifts).



> Happy birthday to my Peggy in crime, Chrisi. I hope you enjoy this present and all the fluff. It's a joy to have been your friend for so long already and I hope we can always celebrate these two that brought us together. I hope the reading of this warms your heart during quarantine and reminds you that we'll all be alright at the end of this. Stay safe and stay strong. Congrats, baby!

It was the sound of the teapot that awoke her in the freshest hours of the morning. It was one of those splendid days. The summer was commencing to peak in New York, and Brooklyn had quite the best breeze coming through the windows. It wasn't that gluey warmth yet, the type that made dressing anything more than a layer or two of clothes utterly unendurable. Yet still, she was sprawled there as she came to the world and as if it was one of those melting days. The soft sheets slightly involving around her legs and over her stomach as she stretched to a content sigh.

Her eyes opened to the smell of fresh bake, perhaps pancakes. It certainly smelled sweet. It made enough fuss inside her stomach for her to peek over the clock marking down nine-fifteen in the morning. Margaret Carter didn't recall the last time she wasn't out of bed before seven. It felt good, though, relaxing for a change.

She sat up calmly, gloriously bare, rolled her neck and shoulders as soft, relaxing noises escaped her lips. Peggy stepped out and modestly slipped the sheer robe around her figure. As much as she enjoyed the freedom, she wasn't a woman who showed off, quite the opposite to the man standing in the kitchen with nothing but an apron.

"Yum." Peggy inquired as she leaned against the doorframe admiring his bottom with quite the interested gaze.

"America's favorite breakfast." Steven Grant Rogers said in an innocent tone, unaware of his lover's hidden intentions. His quick gaze over his shoulder and the concentration on the cooking, preventing him from reading the underlines.

"Great Britan's also." When Steve did turn around with the stack of pancakes, he realized her keen eyes.

He'd never get tired of seeing her in the morning. Her hair was down from the pin curls, those plump lips, and the sleepiness in her eyes. She was perfect, and Steve was confident every man that could see her first thing in the morning would fall in love. He did every morning again and again.

It wasn't always like this. At first, during the war, Steve and Peggy would often meet in camp with both their days already operating. It was four years that he spent trying to picture how the image of that breathtaking woman was in the morning. Then there were the twelve years he lived thinking their chances had ended, with both stuck at different timelines. But now they had forever.

Steve never knew precisely why he fixated so much on that image of the day rising beauty. But when he first saw her in the morning, after coming back in time, it was like it all made sense. Peggy was what Steve wanted to see when he woke from his nightmares _and_ his dreams. He wished to wake up in the morning with the certainty that she was his and that he was hers, at last.

"Morning, birthday girl." Steve came over with the stack of pancakes wiggling the plate, with all the butter and syrup in between. "Hungry?"

"Starved." Somehow her eyes didn't once lay on the food, and he noticed.

"Thought _I_ was the unfixable one."

"You strongly influence me; it seems." She tiptoed to meet him halfway and shut him up for a moment.

Peggy loved how much taller he had become. But sometimes, when she was feeling especially dominant, she would miss it when he was the one at a disadvantage.

"Thought you would be tired after last night." He concluded after they parted breathlessly. He had to put the plate down on the counter for that matter.

"Of you? Impossible, darling." She did let go of her eager morning desire to pursue a mug with the fresh tea that had awoken her. "Besides, you in nothing but an apron in the kitchen will open anyone's appetite."

Peggy turned just in time to see the blush settled across his cheeks. But what she appreciated the most was the smirk she saw along with it.

"Well, I meant to bring it to bed so I wouldn't be accused of starving you over endless nights of sex."

Peggy couldn't help but laugh at his conclusion and plan, coming over to peck his lips softly.

"I didn't file any complaints yet."

"I wanted to get ahead of myself."

"That's sweet." When her hand ran across his cheek, it still surprised Steve how good of a feeling the wedding band on her finger brought.

"Since you're up already, why don't we sit and eat before you drag me back to the bedroom?" His tone was cheeky, and it made her smile between a nod.

Steve took the lead, bringing the pancakes to the table.

They lived in a humble home. It wasn't petit but also not enormous. In one of the quiet streets in Brooklyn, away from the mafia pugnacity and the hustling workers. The Brooklyn Steve had met from seventy years later was full of tourists and artists, but that wasn't the case of the place now. He had to admit it that he preferred how it was now in the fifties. Perhaps he was still old-school after all.

The particular thing about their place was that Peggy had got it _before_ he returned. She had been living there for two years when he arrived. After breaking off with Sousa, a man whom Steve had heard about but never met, Peggy had decided to take up a new thing—owning a home. It was a stricter work for a single woman in the fifties than most people cared to think. She managed it triumphantly like everything Margaret Carter ever did. From buying to fixing walls and decorating. It still felt a lot like Peggy's place and not theirs yet. Since the wedding, Steve had been trying to put into thought how he could collaborate with the site.

"You know I was wondering if you would care for making some remodeling in the kitchen." He pondered, and with her questioning gaze, Steve carried on. "I've been noticing some things aren't logical when it comes to cooking."

"Are you imagining it in a more _futuristic_ way?" Peggy mused. 

That was another factor that felt quite peculiar. Sometimes Steve would mindlessly bring out some ideas that were so ahead of time, and she knew why.

The first time Steve told Peggy the circumstances of his return, he was confident she would think he'd gone mad. But by the time Steve came back, she had witnessed her share of unnatural happenings. There wasn't any sort of shock, though there were many questions. Now, she'd always tease him about withholding valuable information for the world's advancements. But Peggy valued that he never once thought of taking profit of it.

"Perhaps." He admitted, considering he knew the shapes of homes at different times. He did feel more welcomed by the environment of _now_ , but he thought some things could do with updates. "There was just one thing I liked a lot. They had these concepts where the kitchen and living room merge. I think it's brilliant. You could be reading by the chair while I cook lunch. We could be sharing a glass of wine and listening to the radio while I keep an eye on the dinner roast. Or we could have friends over without having to have one of us isolate while the other hosts alone."

Peggy puts their mugs down on the table and stares at the kitchen. While Steve does the same, but at her, he got lost in his idea with the image of her. Hands-on her hips, brows frowned, and sharp gaze. She was a gorgeous woman, the most beautiful one he'd lay his eyes.

"So that wall would have to go down."

"You get the plant." Peggy nods in response.

"How do you propose we do that?"

"Are you offering your help?"

Her smile grew, and she looked back at him. Peggy made her way to him and took her rightful place on his lap. "Of course."

"So, you like it?" Steve mindlessly ran his hand up and down her thigh, urging the robe out of his way.

"I think it'll be wonderful."

They share a smile. And then a kiss.

"Pancakes are getting cold."

"You just fishing for an excuse to take me back to bed."

"Like I need one," Steve responded with a smirk. "it was always the plan to have you after breakfast, Mrs. Rogers."

"Very well then, Mr. Rogers. Let me eat my pancakes so you can have your feast."

They made love again after breakfast, nice and slow like Steve fancied in the morning. But it wasn't until the middle of the afternoon that Peggy was, at last, putting on some clothes and makeup on. Steve followed her lead on the clothing part, but more relaxed. She didn't mind at all when he wore those tank tops and the open button-up at home. Peggy always appreciated that he pampered himself up when they did leave the house. He'd always say he had to look nice next to the finest lady in town.

She noticed he had disappeared into the kitchen again for quite some time. Peggy joined after finishing her makeup, and much to her surprise, there was a cake sitting there on their center table. Perfectly decorated with a 'Happy Birthday' written on it.

"When did you bake this?"

"In the morning before you came in. It was meant to be ready when you woke up, but you came too early." So _that_ was the smell that woke her up. He's smiling regardless. "Happy birthday, Peg."

"Oh, darling, thank you."

They kissed soundly for a long time before they'd sing happy birthday together, the two of them on the intimacy of their home.

At night they hit the town. Peggy dressed superbly in a navy dress that excellently matched Steve's tie. They had dinner at her favorite Italian restaurant and followed to drinks and dancing at the Stork Club.

Since he came back, Steve had improved enormously on his dancing skills. With Peggy's aid, they had become regulars there on Saturday nights and special occasions like her birthday or his. And of course on anniversaries.

She was feeling slightly drunk by the time they made their way back home on the back of a cab.

"That was a delightful birthday, Stevie." Her hands were cupping his cheeks, and her voice was echoing so soft.

"It was indeed a blast, Peg." He added the thoughtful touch of the nickname in return to her charming call.

"I love you, darling."

"I love you, too." They sealed their love with a kiss. "Happy birthday, my love. May we celebrate like this for the rest of our lives."


End file.
